Puer Aeternus
by SwiftShot
Summary: Jack Frost thought he had everything he could want-he knew who he was, he knew his purpose, and children believed in him. Yet when he discovers that being believed in isn't all that he thought it would be, he turns to an unexpected ally who may be able to help him. His new friend, however, has plans of his own. Is Jack ready for the consequences of his decisions?
1. The Boy Who Believed

The Winter Wind, as usual, whispered of gray skies and flurries. It left a chill in its wake, fathers pulling their coats tight around their necks and mothers wondering if their children were dressed warmly enough when they'd went off to school that morning.

Children didn't often notice the cold on the wind-they were too busy pulling pigtails or making mud pies or playing tag to afford their attention to something as trivial as a cool breeze. They were unlikely to notice the temperature at all until the snow began to fall. Even the intricate, icy paintings that might appear overnight on the windowsill were often overlooked by the younger kids, despite their sure sign that snow was soon to follow.

That never stopped Jack Frost from painting them, an act so intrinsic to who he was that it came to him as naturally as breathing. For centuries, his ice patterns had been his identity-his signature in a world that didn't believe. Now, they served not as a reminder of his anonymity but as a prequel of things to come, a hint of mischief-Jack's way of drawing on the walls when the adults weren't looking.

So, when Jack's intricate patterns began to spiral across the window panes of Burgess, Pennsylvannia and the Winter Wind chased away his warmer Autumn cousin, anyone paying attention would have known that Jack Frost was coming home.

Jack's laugh was almost as synonymous with the Winter Wind as was the cold. He rocked lightly back and forth, uplifted by the first friend he could remember, one more invisible than he'd ever been. Despite the way they worked together, Jack had never seen the Winter Wind any more than he'd seen the Man in the Moon, but he'd never doubted the wind was alive and that theirs was a partnership more than anything else. This partnership was finally bringing Jack back to Burgess, and he couldn't be happier.

He relaxed as the town rose up on the horizon, one hand slipping into the pocket of his sweatshirt, the other clasped around his staff, and he spun a few times. Snowflakes sputtered into existence around him, spiraling in his wake, then disappearing as they drifted too far away.

Children's laughter greeted him, and he laughed right back, his grin broad across his face. "Best welcome I know," he cheered, and the wind blew faster in answer to his unspoken request.

It was a weekend, so there was no need for a snow day. Jack twirled his staff as he flew into Burgess proper, skimming over the rooftops of the suburban houses. The leaves, still visible on the ground and most of them piled neatly into heaps beneath the skeletal trees, leapt up in response, crisping with a sudden frost and twirling in a chaotic, unorganized dance in all directions.

Jack flipped onto his back, cackling with pleasure as they settled across the browning grass. Tomorrow, he'd bring on a blizzard, but today he had someone to see.

The street where Jamie Bennett lived looked much as it had when Jack had brought a freak snowstorm to Jamie's August birthday three years before. The cars were different, and Jamie's dad had cut down the ornamental fruit tree that had been blocking Sophie's window, and they'd painted the shutters a different color, but none of those mattered to Jack.

He slowed, his bare feet landing nimbly on sill of Jamie's window, and crouched. Sure enough! Jamie sat on his bed, a magazine propped on his lap, and a telephone to his ear. Like the cars in the driveway and the color of the shutters, Jamie had changed since Jack had last seen him, too. He was taller, his lanky legs sprawled haphazardly across the bedspread, his neck craned awkwardly to the side as he held the phone between his ear and his shoulder. The boy's tongue poked out one side of his mouth as he flipped through the magazine, then ruffled his hair to one side, then let it fall back in its messy heap, only to turn another page and try to manage it into a different position.

Jack laughed, tapping the windowpane with the end of his staff. Spiraling ferns of ice crawled outward across the glass. "No use, Jamie. That cowlick's going nowhere!" He slipped through the window, not bothering to try and push it open. The breeze he brought with him was usually less than appreciate, and considering Jamie's AC/DC t-shirt, it'd be best to leave it outside.

Jamie sighed, nodding, and letting his hair fall again. "Yeah, I think so, too," he said.

"Good try, though," Jack replied, crouching on the footboard of Jamie's bed, one hand tucked in his pocket again. He grinned broadly. Nothing like coming home to an old friend.

Jamie rolled his eyes, a smile pulling up one side of his mouth.

How old was he now, Jack wondered briefly. There was a glimpse of something very adult in that expression, something he hadn't seen in Jamie before. Maybe it was that awkward stubble on his chin that made him seem that way, the kind that wasn't quite sure if it could grow into something more than peach fuzz yet.

"Sure," he said, shifting to take the phone in his hand now. He arched his head the opposite direction to stretch out his neck. "I can be there in…" He glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes?"

Jamie's smile grew even wider, but Jack's faded. His eyebrows drew together, a furrow of concern in between them. Jamie was going to leave? But Jack had just gotten there!

The boy nodded, clicked a button on the phone, and tossed it onto his bed as he stood up and began to throw clothes in all directions, searching through the piles on his floor.

Jack jumped down from the footboard. "Yo, Jamie," he said, trying to add a laugh but really just sounding exasperated even to his own ears. "What's the rush, kiddo? Aren't you even going to say hi to-"

Jamie turned, chewing on his lip, and crossed behind his bed to another pile of clothes that appeared a little less rumpled than the one he'd just dug through. He walked straight through Jack.

Jack's breath caught in his throat at the sensation, a small gasp all he could manage as he tensed in surprise. He blinked dumbly, staring at the spot Jamie had been before he turned to watch the boy-a teenager now, maybe even an older teenager-rummage in the clothes until he pulled out a different shirt and grinned triumphantly.

"Jamie?" Jack repeated.

He didn't respond.

Jack soared back three feet, half jumping and half flying, to land in front of Jamie as he stood up. "Jamie!" He waved his hand, but there was nothing.

Jamie turned his back to the window, oblivious to the patterns of ice Jack had drawn there, and pulled off his AC/DC t-shirt, threw on the one he'd picked up, and ran out of his bedroom. He pulled the door shut loudly behind him.

"Jamie Bennett, what did I tell you about slamming the door?" his mom yelled, voice muffled from where Jack stood in shock.

"Sorry mom! Gotta go pick up Pippa!"

Another door slammed, and while Jack continued to stand in Jamie's room, his eyes wide and his expression somewhere between shock and terror, the rumble of an engine in the driveway came to life. It rose, then faded, until Jack couldn't hear it at all, and still he continued to stand there, unmoving.

It was hard to swallow, and he didn't know where his hands and feet were. They felt a thousand miles away and completely numb. Finally, he began to shake his head. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong! Jamie couldn't see him, which could only mean...but that was impossible!

Jamie of all people would never stop believing.

Jack's hand tightened around his staff, and he spun with incredible speed as he jumped, taking flight out the window he never opened. The ice patterns thickened, but he was gone. There wouldn't be a blizzard in Burgess the next day-Jack Frost had to find out what was wrong with Jamie.


	2. Growing Up

"What's going on!?" Jack whispered, looking up at the dim outline of the moon for what had to be the eighty-sixth time since he'd headed north from Burgess no more than an hour before. The Northern Lights were still quiet. How could they continue to be silent if the children were in danger? If the children were losing their belief!?

Unless this was even worse than he'd thought…. He gritted his teeth and added his own burst of wind to propel him faster. He wondered if only North and Bunny were able to go instantly from one place to another because they had one day to get all their work done while Jack, Tooth, and Sandy were always on duty. He shook the thought away. No time to dwell on that right now, even if a snow portal or a magic icicle would come in really handy at the moment.

When the castle at the North Pole came into view, Jack realized how much he'd expected it to be under attack. The fact that it was a calm, beautiful winter's day without a single sign of danger made his stomach lurch in fear. If there was a fight, there was an enemy to defeat, but this sort of calmness? The North Pole couldn't have fallen already, could it?

He didn't slow down as he reached the entrance, waving his staff and blowing the gigantic oak doors open with a bang. He wouldn't have slowed down at all until he reached the globe if he hadn't been stopped by a jerk on his ankle, pulling him out of the air so suddenly that he lost all his momentum and practically fell, hanging upside down and most definitely caught.

He frowned as his eyes met the golden gaze of a yeti. From this direction, the creature's thick mustache looked more like the Easter Bunny's ears. "Phil, le'go! I've got to check on the globe! The kids are in trouble!"

The yeti grumbled with indistinguishable words, his intonation rising at the end as he recognized Jack and flipped the boy back upright with his free hand before setting him gently on the floor.

"What do you mean," Jack asked, his feet on the ground for no more than an instant before he began running, Phil the yeti falling into step behind him, "there's nothing wrong? There's gotta be! When was the last time you check-" He skidded to a halt, the buzz of the workshop in his ears as yetis and elves tinkered away on new inventions and toys of all shapes and sizes. Something whizzed over Jack's head, but he didn't bother to see what it was. He was staring at the enormous globe suspended in the center of the castle's primary tower.

Lights dotted the map, some areas heavily lit by high concentrations of believers, others spread out and spotted, but all of them strong.

Another yeti set down the CPU of the laptop he was assembling and stood beside Phil, whacking him on the arm and pointing at Jack as he grumbled under his breath. He raised an eyebrow in question.

Phil shrugged and gestured to Jack with both hands, grumbled back, then twirled one finger around the side of his head.

The second yeti nodded in agreement, crossing his arms and looking at Jack with a worried expression.

Jack just stared at the globe. "That can't be right," he said softly. He pushed off, floating up to the map, and set a hand on Pennsylvania. There were so many lights you couldn't tell them all apart. The frown never left his face. "Is North in his workshop?" he called, eyes fixed on the lights flickering in front of him.

Phil grumbled up at him, again reaching to grab Jack, but before he could finish his sentence, Jack shoved away from the globe and darted up through the tower.

"Thanks, Phil," he called, and the yeti groaned, putting his hands on his head and shaking it.

North hummed as he leaned back in his chair, a remote control with a touch screen held in one hand, a screwdriver in the other. One eye was scrunched almost shut as he tightened a miniscule screw. The scent of hot chocolate and peppermint wafted around him, a steaming mug resting on his desk beside an open attache tool case filled with a sixty-nine piece set of Philips head screwdrivers.

A fondue fountain made of peppermints bubbled with chocolate on a table in the corner, a festive red table cloth embroidered with golden thread beneath the two dozen platters of cookies, candies, and sweets. A handful of elves jingled around on and beneath the table, carrying new goodies in and removing others from the table. Mostly they would sneak treats from the plates they took away, but a few of the elves grabbed some of the fresh ones instead.

North didn't look up as they marched around, one elf carrying a plate of fresh oreos in a circle, going neither to the table nor back to the bakery.

The door banged open, accompanied by a gust of cold wind that tossed North's beard backward, his always-rosy cheeks taking on a fresh glow from the cold.

"Again with the no knocking-" North bellowed, looking up from his project to see the boy in his blue sweatshirt sweep in, touching down with his staff in one hand, the other tucked in his pocket. "Jack Frost! It is a surprise!"

North set the screwdriver down, the remote device still in his other hand, and rose from his desk. "What pleasure am I owing for this visit?"

"Something's wrong with Jamie," Jack said solemnly, his bare feet silent on the floor as he walked up to meet North.

"Jamie? Jamie Bennett?" North said, his brows drawing together. "No," he said after a moment's thought, "Jamie is fine. Still on Nice list."

"That's not-"

"You must see my new creation!" he continued, dropping his large, free hand on Jack's shoulder. He steered the boy around to face a Christmas tree, easily twelve feet tall, and decorated in red and gold. Real candles flickered on the branches, and some of the ornaments waved at Jack.

North held out the little remote and touched the screen with his thumb. The Christmas tree began to spin. He pressed something else, and sound began to bellow from the tree.

" _Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell ROCK!_

 _Jingle Bells Swing, and Jingle Bells-"_

"The latest in Christmas tree stands!" He held the remote in front of Jack proudly, leaning forward to catch the boy's eye. "Is bluetooth compatible!"

The elves by the table oohed, two of them clapping.

Jack shoved the remote away, shaking North's hand off his shoulder. "I don't care!" he yelled, his grip tightening on the staff.

North pouted, hitting a button on the remote. The tree went silent and slowed to a stop. "That is not very nice, Jack."

"You're ignoring me!" he replied. "I'm trying to tell you something is wrong, and you don't believe me! How am I supposed to react? By playing with toys?"

North set his device down and shrugged. "Playing is what we do, Jack. Is that so bad? But if you are not in the mood for fun, something is very much bothering you." He resumed his seat behind his desk, then patted his knee. "Come, sit."

Jack glared at him.

"What?! Is joke!" he laughed, but when Jack's expression didn't change, he waved his large hand at another chair beside the sweets table, an elf sitting on it and munching on a large section of peppermint. On the table, the chocolate fondue was now spilling out of a hole in the back of the fountain. North didn't seem to notice, or he didn't care. "Shoo, shoo little pointy hat."

The elf glared up at Jack, but scurried off the chair to eat his peppermint on the floor instead.

Jack didn't feel particularly inclined to sit, but he knew they'd be able to get to the point faster if he just did as asked. He fell into the chair with a sigh and crossed his legs, his staff resting on his shoulder.

"Now," North said, swiveling his chair to face Jack and leaning back. "What is so wrong, Jack Frost?"

"I went to see Jamie," he said, and he remembered what it felt like for his friend to walk through him. His throat tightened again, and he pulled at one of the ties on his hoodie, looking imploringly at North. "He couldn't see me."

North didn't respond, his expression neutral as he scanned Jack's face.

Jack leaned forward. "You know what that means, North! But...but Jamie would _never_ stop believing!"

North stroked his beard with one hand. "You are right. He has not stopped believing."

"See! Then I'm right! Something's wrong!" Jack jumped up, standing on the chair, one foot on the armrest and ready to push off. "We've got to go-"

"Jack!" North boomed, standing as well. He crossed to the boy and put both hands on his shoulders. "Everything is alright."

"No!" Jack insisted, trying to wiggle out from under North's hands. "Jamie-"

"-Is growing up," North finished, his eyes big and kind as he watched Jack.

Jack's enthusiasm for leaving faded, and he went still. "What?"

"Jamie is growing up, Jack. He is no longer child. He is teenager, almost adult."

"But…." Jack shook his head. "So what? If he still believes, then...why can't he see me? What does it matter if he's getting older?"

North let go, shaking his head. "Jack, Jack, Jack. We are Guardians of Childhood. We protect _children._ Do you not remember your oath?"

"Well, yeah, of course I do, but-"

"We vow to watch over the children of the world, because they need us."

"Everyone needs fun! And wonder! And hopes!" Jack replied. This didn't make sense. What did someone's age matter for those things?

"Yes, Jack. But as a child grows up, as they learn who the are, they find those things themselves. We are there when they are young, to help them, to teach them, and most importantly to protect who they will become by assuring that they have those things."

Jack sat back down, his feet hanging over the edge of the chair. "We can keep giving them," he said. "Even if they're older, that doesn't mean I can help him have fun."

"Of course you can, Jack," North agreed. "But you've taught him how to find fun for himself. Jamie will always believe in what you stand for, because you were a Guardian for him."

Jack looked down at his hands. "So, he believes in what I stand for, but not in me?"

"Exactly," North said, smiling as he patted his belly.

Jack looked up at him, his expression sober.

North's smile faded to a sheepish grin. "I don't mean you, as in _you_ , but in Jack Frost."

"I _am_ Jack Frost," Jack said.

North frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. His enormous bushy eyebrows drew together. "Is not what I meant," he mumbled, then brightened, pointing a finger in the air. "Ah-ha! Kataniya na kon'kakh!"

"I don't speak Russian, North," Jack sighed.

"Ice skating!" he said gleefully.

"Excuse me?"

"Ice skating! You were taught how to skate on the ice when you were child, no?"

He shrugged, confused. "Well, yeah, I guess, but-"

"And when you learned, someone supported you, no?"

Jack tried to think. Even though he'd gotten his memories back, he was still trying to go remember something three centuries and a quarter centuries before. How he'd learned to skate was pretty blurry-he'd been really young-but he could remember teaching his sister. When she'd first started, she couldn't even stand up without him beside her, holding her hand. He gave a small nod.

"For a while, they continued to support you, to be beside you, didn't they? While you learned how to do it yourself."

That was right. He'd held her hand for a few days, maybe a week or two, and then she'd started to skate on her own. It was only a little at first. A couple of feet, maybe, before Jack would have to catch her again. She got stronger, though, until she was skating circles around him on a good day.

"And when you learned, you didn't need someone to hold you. If they had, they would've held you back instead of letting you be free. That is what we do, Jack. We protect the children so they can be free when they let go."

"But...I don't want to let go," Jack said softly.

"That is not your choice."

Jack lifted his eyes. "So what, Jamie just forgets about me? About everything we did and what he saw? We were friends, North! I wasn't just some fairy tale to him!"

North shook his head. "It is part of growing up, Jack. He will remember you, but as human beings grow up, they are very good at convincing themselves things aren't not exactly as they once thought. Usually, they believe they had very good imaginations."

"That's...that's not fair!" Jack responded, jumping to his feet again. "We work so hard to protect them, and they just...turn us into make-believe?!"

"Jack," North said. "No one can stay together forever. You should know that."

Jack paused, his cheeks feeling warm in his outrage, but the last thing he remembered from his life rose up in his mind. His sister smiled at him, because he'd saved her. He saved her, that was why he was a Guardian. That was his purpose. It wasn't because he'd stayed with her her whole life, or even because he'd given something up. _Protect the children of the world_. He swallowed, his throat tight.

"Hot chocolate?" North said, holding up his own mug.

Jack looked up. "Huh? Uh, no, I'm good."

"Is best in world!" The big man grinned, waggling his cup. Hot chocolate sloshed over one side, but he didn't seem to notice.

Finally, Jack smiled a little and shrugged. "Sure. Why not."

"Good! Tinkles, hot chocolate for Jack!"

One of the elves jumped up, grinning so wide his eyes were bulging, and he shambled off to get a mug.

"Is never easy," North said as he watched the elf go, "to watch your first believer grow up."

"Do you remember yours?" Jack asked.

"Of course!" North boomed.

Tinkles the Elf returned a few seconds later with a mug of steaming chocolate, a candy cane plunged inside. The curled end was missing, and Tinkles was chewing loudly and with his mouth open. Jack saw specks of red and white candy between his teeth.

He took the proffered mug. "Thanks," he said, and when North turned toward the doors of his workshop, Jack plucked the remaining candy cane from the mug and threw it over his shoulder.

"Walk with me, Jack," North boomed, his voice assertive. It wasn't a recommendation.

That was okay. Jack didn't want to be alone right now, anyway. He flew over to North's side, then touched down to walk beside him. It always surprised him when a man with so much vigor decided to stroll, but that was okay, too. Jack didn't to hurry right now, either.

Jack sipped at his cocoa as they passed through the larger workshops of the castle. Stuffed animals, dolls, and action figures seemed to be a staple, and there were classics Jack had seen over the years, too: Etch-a-Sketches, Jack-in-the-Boxes, those weird tops that spun on their own hand-held metal tracks (he'd have to ask what those were called some day). More and more electronics were dotting the workshop, and they passed one room entirely dedicated to AA batteries before North spoke again.

"Irina Balashova," he said.

Jack raised an eyebrow, a mustache of hot cocoa painting his upper lip. He wiped it off with his sleeve.

"My first believer. That was long time ago, of course." He paused to take a drink of his own mug. "She had brown eyes. Big," he glanced at Jack and smiled impishly, "and full of wonder."

He paused, something catching his eye. "How many times do I tell you," he called to a yeti, "pink is new black! Pink!"

Jack didn't have a chance to see what exactly he was telling the yeti to paint pink, because North's hand fell on his shoulder yet again and the man turned him, but the aggravated roar was enough to put a smile on Jack's face. They started walking again.

"There is always a child with eyes full of wonder," North said, "just like there is always a child who wants to have fun. When one grows up, there is another who needs you." He squeezed Jack's shoulder. "That is who we are."

Jack nodded. "Don't worry, North. I get it. I'm fine." He looked at North and smiled, but he was actually seeing Jamie in his bedroom, sifting through clothes and not looking back at him. "Just surprised."

North beamed down at him. "That is what I like about you, Jack. You are very flexible, like children! You want to believe in the best of things."

"Yup. You've got me pegged." He shrugged. "That's all I want."

"Is good thing," North said. "Come! I show you new toy! Is called 'droid'. Demand is very big this Christmas! Very big! Have not see this much demand since creepy Furby robot. You will like it!"


	3. Something More?

Jack was not fine, though he did indeed like the toy. No sooner had he seen the little orange and white ball than a hundred ideas of how to use it for trouble popped into his head. As soon as North had forbidden him to touch it, he'd begun concocting a plan on how to do just that, and a spark of fun cut through the darkness of his loneliness.

He'd been lonely for so long, though, that that single spark was too little too slowly to clear the darkness away. It would be a little while before he was really fine, but he would be. He was bringing fun to kids, and they finally believed in him. Wasn't that the point? As long as they believed, what did it matter if they could see him?

"So, Jack," North said, patting both hands on his belly. "Now that you are knowing Jamie is okay, is there not blizzard or snow day you must provide?"

Jack smiled, both hands wrapped around his staff as he leaned into it. "You know, now that you mention it...it's been awhile since I've seen Florida."

"Not much of challenge," North chuckled. "Those warm-weather Americans shut down with cold breeze!"

Jack laughed as well, shrugging. "Everyone deserves a little fun!" He took a few steps that quickly turned into jumps, wind whisking through North's workshop to catch him as he took off. He gave a small salute to Phil as he twirled out the front door, ignorant or more likely not caring about the mess his sudden flurry left in the upsetted work of the yetis.

That fall, Pensacola, Florida saw the biggest blizzard they'd ever seen, with lows nearing the single digits and five and a half inches of snow in one day, beating the state's previous one-day snowfall record by an inch and a half. The storm went on to last for three days, but what really made the news was that while Pensacola suffered freezing temperatures and heavy snowfall, Panama City Beach sat comfortably in the seventies without a cloud in the sky not even one hundred miles away.

When he saw children who'd never thrown a snowball or built a snowman laughing under a cold winter sky, their noses red from the cold and maybe a little watery because of it, Jack knew what was important. He'd brought something to those tan little Floridian kids they'd probably remember for the rest of their lives...something they'd _believe_ in the rest of their lives.

As much fun as producing an unheard of snowstorm was, however, Jack always found himself drawn back to cooler climates after a visit to the subtropics, and this time, he jumped on the Westerlies and let them carry him without care, leaving cold and confused sailors in his wake as he crossed the Atlantic.

What he really wanted was to return to Burgess, to share his most recent exploits with Jamie, to watch as his friend's face bloomed in laughter at the story of how he'd temporarily frozen one little boy's tongue to his baby sister's sippy cup (sticking someone's tongue to just about anything never got old!), but the memory that all he'd find was a teenager who was too far grown up to see him was still too fresh, so instead he rode the wind north.

* * *

The stack of packages - some neat and square, others oddly shaped, some big, some small - stood a foot above Kristoff's head, and that was only the first of a half-dozen piles of similar size.

Anna sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face as she leaned her arm on the table. She set her pen down and shook her other hand out with a pout. "Can't we just, you know, have another ball to say thank you? My hand is cramping, and we're only like, a gazillionth of the way through."

Kristoff gave an empathetic nod as he took another richly wrapped box from the top of the pile.

Elsa, however, laughed softly and shook her head. She didn't look up from the leatherbound book she was writing in with delicate, swirling script. "No, Anna, they would just bring more gifts."

"We could make it a present-free ball! Got a gift? No entry allowed!" She threw both hands over head with a grin. "Easy!"

"Anna, I need to do this. The least the guests who came to the coronation deserve is a personal thank you, especially after what I did to them."

Anna shook her head vigorously, her double braids waggling, and she practically climbed on the table as she reached across and put her hand on Elsa's. "You didn't do anything on purpose! Everyone knows it was an accident, and no one got hurt."

Elsa looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"In any lasting way or anything," Anna added.

"You don't have to help," Elsa said. "You all have been so much help already, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Geesh, make me feel guilty!" Anna sighed, falling back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. "You've been alone long enough. I'm not going anywhere!"

"Yeah, this is fun!" chimed a voice from the middle of the gift stacks.

Kristoff scoffed as he carried the gift over to Olaf, who was focused on a particularly weird-shaped gift wrapped in a rich purple fabric. The snowman reached a twig arm out toward it, but Kristoff smacked it with a free hand before he touched it. "That's because you're only opening them," he said, handing the one he'd taken from the top of the pile to Olaf.

The snowman grabbed it with a giggle and began to pull the wrappings off. A few seconds later, he pulled the present out of its box. "Oooooh, a hat!" he said, putting it on his head.

"That's a cup," Kristoff sighed.

"I knew that!" Olaf assured him.

"That's the twenty third cup so far," Anna sighed, jotting a note with a yawn.

Elsa laughed, her smile demure as she looked up. "Take a break, please. Go outside, enjoy the sunshine!"

"What? No!" Anna said quickly. "I'm doing fine! See? Just fine! Ow." She brandished the pen, but her wrist popped and she winced. "Totally fine," she repeated, forcing a smile.

Elsa shook her head, setting her own pen down. "Anna, it's-"

"Olaf, don't touch-" Kristoff shouted, but the only thing they all heard after that was a loud crash as one of the towers of gifts swayed, then crumbled. Breaking glass and pottery, clanging metals, and cracking boxes were only some of the noises one could pick out as the whole pile fell, taking half of another pile with it.

Olaf disappeared beneath the heap.

Kristoff exhaled a long breath, smacking his face with his hand. "That's why I was giving them to him."

"Olaf?!" Elsa and Anna exclaimed together. Elsa was half out of her seat when the boxes wiggled and Olaf's arm poked out.

"I'm okay!" he called. "Wow, that's a big mess." He wriggled his way out from under the wreckage.

"I think it's time everyone took a break," Elsa said, her expression taut.

"You too?!" Anna cheered.

"Me too."

"About time!" Anna was around the table in a flash, skirts waving behind her, and she grabbed Elsa's hand with new vigor. "You're working way too hard-"

"It's only been a few hours, Anna."

"-and that much hard work is going to-"

"It will have to get done eventually."

"-make you go gray or something, though I guess we might not be able to tell, since you're hair is already-"

"Anna, it's fine. I'm coming!"

"-white, but I don't mean like you're old, because you're not old, but-"

"You don't have to convince me to join you!"

"-you are older than me, and-"

Their voices echoed through the hall, then began to fade as Anna dragged Elsa out of the castle. Kristoff sighed, looking at the mess in the study. "Why do I feel like I'm going to be the one cleaning this up?" He shook his head as he turned to follow the girls, Olaf falling into step beside him.

No one noticed the strange, purple-fabric wrapped gift that had slide across the floor and disappeared beneath the settee on the far side of the room.

* * *

Jack had always liked the mountains of Norway, particularly Kjerag, with its crazy wedged rock. He'd learned over the last few centuries that fun and adrenaline usually went hand in hand, and it was a good bet you could find both in the mountains. So, when the Westerlies carried him across the Atlantic, he managed to find his way to the northern coast of the country before he decided to land.

In all his years of roaming the globe, Jack still had a way of finding new places. He was in the mood for a new place now, a place he'd never told anyone about, a place he could make new memories. Leaving the stream of the Westerlies, he summoned his friend the Winter Wind to navigate the jagged coastline, darting through valleys and woods and across the sheer, bare faces of the mountains. He laughed, running sideways along one of the rocky outcroppings, spiraling around and leaving a trail of ice in his wake as he dragged his staff at his side.

The air was crisp and cool, pregnant with unshed snow, and so very quiet. As Jack perched at the highest peak of the tallest ridgeline he could find, staff resting on his shoulder, he saw no one else, not even specks of distant birds sharing his wind. He sighed, exhaling into his hands. His breath condensed, and he held it in his palms until he molded it into a snowball. He threw it up in the air a few times, then chucked it off the mountain.

As he watched the ice ball drop, something sparkled in the midst of the snow covering the mountainside. Something that was definitely ice. His curiosity piqued, and he lept from the mountaintop, freefalling for a few seconds before the wind rose up to meet him and he soared down the slope kicking up flurries behind him.

The snow was deep and powdery, the kind of snow alpine sportsmen called cold smoke, and Jack laughed to himself. He'd have to make a note of this place, with it's tall mountain jutting upward to the north and its peaceful solitude for, you know, those rare times he wanted to be alone. The ice thing glittered again, closer now, and he slowed, touching down once, leaping forward, touching down again, and coming to a skipping stop beside it. He crouched down, staff in one hand, the other draped across his knee. A single sceptre of ice stood out from the depths of snow, intricately carved though no more than eight, maybe ten inches long. It had six sides, each one with a worn pattern Jack couldn't quite make out, tapering to a point that had once been crowned with a snowflake made of ice. Now, it was only part of a snowflake, two of the points cracked and gone.

He reached out a gentle hand, his finger brushing one of the remaining points. This was no act of nature, and he'd certainly never been here before. Who'd made this? Had someone carved it? And discarded it on the top of a mountain because….they felt like it?

He whistled in admiration, a smile playing at one side of his mouth. His finger traced the rest of the snowflake and then Jack fixed it, adding the missing points with ease. He smiled at the completed staff, jutting out of a snowbank in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't just leave it there. Grabbing it, he yanked to take it with him. Maybe North would have a use for it. The Toothfairy always seemed to like shiny things, too, but the Tooth Palace would probably be too warm for it to-

The sceptre didn't budge.

"Huh?" He pulled again, but nothing moved. "Well aren't you stubborn," he mumbled and dug his staff into the snow at the sceptre's base. Moving some aside, he raised an eyebrow. It wasn't only a foot long. The base of it continued deeper into the snow. He began to dig, and no more than a few feet down he realized he'd need more than just his staff. With a broad grin, he leapt back, hovering a dozen feet away, and swept his staff in front of him. The wind answered, the gust of wind blowing Jack's hood up and onto his head as it whipped the powder around, parting it and sending it down the mountain to reveal a structure that had been swallowed in the snow for decades.

Jack stared in awe, unaware of the amazed smile across his face, as a castle made entirely of ice appeared in front of him. Parts of it had broken under the weight of the snow and the shifting topography of the mountain range, but enough of the structure remained for Jack to marvel at its existence, no less its construction. Half of an elegant staircase here, what might've been a fountain there, something Jack assumed was a fallen chandelier broken on the floor. It was breathtaking-he'd never imagined trying to make something like that, and the idea of someone who would or even _could_ had never before occurred to him. He came to rest in what he assumed was a foyer or some fancy, enormous equivalent. There'd been a door once-half of it still stood on hinges made of perfectly smooth ice-but since a third of the structure's walls had collapsed, it seemed pointless to try and use what was left of it.

Jack stuffed one hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt, climbing the staircase until the steps stopped, broken and crumbled, and he flew to the next floor. There wasn't much left, no hints to who was responsible for this. He'd probably never know, and whoever it was was long gone by now. He sighed, kicking a slab of ice that'd fallen from the ceiling and watching it slide across the floor. It fell over the side of the structure, tumbling down much like Jack's snowball had earlier that day. He twirled his staff, bringing it around and up across his shoulders, his bare feet unaware of any chill from the ice floor beneath him. What was the cold to him? Apparently, it hadn't bothered whoever had built this, either.

Maybe Jamie could Google it for him, find out who…. Jack frowned under the cowl of his sweatshirt's hood. Right. Jamie couldn't help him with this. There were other kids who could see him now, other kids he might be able to convince to do a little internet searching, but why would they? To them, he was a Guardian-the only responsibility children had to him was in believing. Jamie had been more than that, he'd been a friend. The kind who'd look up an ice castle in Norway just because it was fun.

Jack suddenly felt more lonely than he wanted to, and he turned to go with all intentions of finding the nearest town and starting the most epic snowball fight he could imagine when a hint of color caught his eye beneath a pile of broken ice.

"What have we here?" he asked the solitude. He held his staff at his side, pushing his hood off as he cocked his head to get a better look. Poking the shattered ice with his toe, he cleared it away before crouching beside the purple fabric bag. There was something inside it, something Jack had to see. How had he gone so long without finding this? How had he survived for over three centuries without it?

Staff resting idly against his shoulder, he touched the bag and marveled at the warmth of it. He wasn't particularly fond of warmth normally, but this...this was almost as good as the smell of fresh cookies at North's, or the sounds of spring and life in Bunny's warren. He drew it close to him, cradling the bag in his hands as he stared, fascinated, at the rich, shimmering purple cloth and the delicate golden cord that held the bag shut. It was so beautiful, he almost forgot the majesty of the ice palace around him.

Biting his bottom lip, he pulled the cord and the knot fell out as if it had just been waiting for his touch. He reached in and his fingers wrapped around warm metal.

* * *

The man stood before Elsa's throne, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression sober and calm. His costume lacked the usual gilding of the nobility, but it was neat and cleanly pressed and worn with impeccable respect, every insignia and medal perfectly straight and polished. His dark hair, graying around the temples, he wore combed back. "Your Majesty," he intoned, not a trace of his frustration in his voice, "with all due respect, the longer we wait to pursue reparations, the more Arendelle will suffer in the coming years."

Elsa sat perfectly straight, the train of her cape draped gloriously over the side of the throne. That had been Anna's favorite part of the day, and no matter how much Elsa insisted it was unnecessary, her sister had completely ignored her and fused over the cape anyway.

"I feel that I have made myself very clear, Lord Gaarder, on how Arenelle will respond to Prince Hans' behavior. The Southern Isles are not to be held responsible for one person's actions, however ill-intentioned and deceitful they may have been."

"With the decrease in importation already resulting from the embargo with Weaseltown, it's important that we find a way to make up the difference."

"And we will," Elsa said. "We have plenty of other trade partners. Using coercion to garner more imports from the Southern Isles is not how we will fulfil that deficit."

"Coercion, your Majesty, implies deceit, or even force. You most of all are aware that the proposed reparations from the Southern Isles are hardly an underhanded means-"

A loud snore echoed through the throne room, and Elsa stifled her urge to roll her eyes. Beside her, Anna sat in her own throne, chin resting on her hand, a stream of drool running from her mouth as she propped her head up on the armrest. She'd fallen asleep almost an hour before.

No matter how much Elsa had insisted Anna's presence at the trade discussion was also unnecessary, her sister had, once again, completely ignored her.

Lord Gaarder cleared his throat. "It's not an underhanded maneuver, Queen Elsa. The Southern Isles understand it to be part of the treaty, and they are willing to discuss the appropriate measures."

"I will not be the kind of queen who cannot forgive," Elsa stated, "just as I hope our allies will choose to be. I appreciate the Southern Isles' sincerity in making amends, but I do not want those amends to put a strain on our allies' economy any more than I want to handicap our own."

"Dismissing any remaining reparations will not be seen as merciful, your Majesty. It will be considered weakness." Gaarder kept his eyes focused on Elsa's, his gaze confident and sincere.

Elsa nodded. "I recognize that is one possible interpretation, but my mind will not be changed on this matter. Thank you for your council, Lord Gaarder."

"Of course, your Majesty. That is what you appointed me for, after all."

"You had always served my father well," she agreed with a small smile. "I appreciate your candidness, despite our differing opinions."

"I wouldn't be much good as an advisor if-"

Another snore, followed by Anna smacking her lips as she dreamed.

"-if I only told you wanted to hear. Will that be all?"

"Yes, for now. Please prepare the treaty with the Southern Isles as discussed." She waved a hand in dismissal.

"Of course, your Majesty. I will have the draft brought up to you for your seal within the week." The man bowed with perfect formality, his back straight, his heels together, then turned without another word and left the throne room.

Elsa sighed, stretching a little, then turned to look at her sister. Anna wanted to help-all she'd ever wanted, it seemed to Elsa, was for them to be together. Even when Elsa had shut her out, she had never given up trying to break down that wall. Anna wasn't about to let affairs of state stand in her way of spending time with her sister, even if it meant sleeping through them.

Elsa smiled, leaning over the arm of her throne. "Anna," she said softly.

"Mmm?" Anna relaxed further against the hand that was propping her up.

"We're done for today."

"Done?"

"Yup! The kingdom is safe, thanks to you."

"Yaaaay," Anna cheered in her sleep, and she waved a hand with half-hearted triumph. Her balance slipped, and her head fell off her hand. She jerked in surprise. "Huh? Wha? Where'd the guy go?"

"The guy?" Elsa laughed.

"I mean, Lord Gary?"

Elsa shook her head.

"Garden?"

Laughing, she again shook her head.

"Gaaaa…."

"Gaarder," Elsa whispered.

"Gaarder! Lord Gaarder! Right. Just what I said. Where'd he go?"

"The matter's been settled. He's taking care of the paperwork."

"Ew, paperwork." Anna stuck her tongue out, and a moment later her expression lit up. She spun to face Elsa with a grin. "That means we're done, right?"

"For now," Elsa replied.

"Which means _you're_ done?"

"Yes, Anna."

"Which means-"

Both girls grinned broadly. "Waffles and chocolate syrup!"

Anna leapt from her chair with a whoop. "I love Saturdays! Woo-hoo! And then we can go ice skating!"

"Anna, it's summer," Elsa laughed, standing up in a more subdued manner, but her expression reflected Anna's enthusiasm. Waffles and chocolate syrup on Saturdays was one of the first new traditions they'd made in years, and while really, who didn't like warm, fluffy waffles drizzled with chocolate, Elsa loved it because she could share it with her sister.

"Yeah," Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes, "because _that_ matters."

Elsa smiled. "Then we can go ice skating," she agreed.

"Best. Day. Ever!" Anna cheered.

It hadn't occurred to either one that they would be too busy trying to stop another summer snowstorm to eat much of anything that afternoon.


	4. Discovery

He'd been alone for so long he'd lost track of time in terms of days, years, or even decades. Time passed was measured by the rise and fall of civilizations, sometimes a single event standing out in his mind like a particularly colorful painting in a museum filled with blacks and whites.

The great flood came first to mind, when he went back as far as he could try and remember. Things before that were blurry, if they existed for him at all, but the event was a myriad of vivid blues. Gray at first, but then the sky cleared into a light blue so clear that even the most beautiful topaz gem would envy it's delicate veil. Below that began the water, first a true aqua, then cerulean, then the color a crayon company would label Prussian Blue for a short while many centuries-millennia?-later. Finally, a navy so dark it was nearly black. He remembered that one the best, since that's where he experienced the whole ordeal. Deep beneath the seas, trapped, stagnant, unable to move or even make his presence known. Alone.

The waters eventually receded, people eventually began to repopulate the dry land, and as people so often seemed to do, they forgot it had ever been any other way. He'd wondered, then, if they could forget about something like that, what hope did he have? He, who they'd never even known?

So, he watched and he wondered if he'd forget, too. Would he forget he was anything more than just an observer?

Then, after mankind had expanded across the earth and developed towns and cities and theology and causes and war, he was found. He realized, the day he was set free for the first time six centuries, he had indeed forgotten. Not what he could do, not who he was, but how he had come to be.

The one who'd found him went by the name Merlin, and he loved Merlin for setting him free. His love was quick and grateful and innocent, like a child to a parent. He gave Merlin all he could-power, wealth, wisdom. He would've continued to give, but all children grow up eventually. Even children who are a thousand years old.

In his gallery of a memory, Merlin was a picture of pastels. Soft, gentle colors that belied the horrors of the world. Maybe they all hadn't been his master's doing, but he never stopped seeing it all, even when he was free. The greed in the search for the Holy Grail. The genocide of the Crusades.

While he'd worshipped Merlin, his love matured when Merlin took an apprentice. Morgan le Fey was the most beautiful, the most enchanting being he'd ever seen. In her, he began to understand why men might fight for something. He'd taught her as well, given her power even greater than what he'd given his first master. Then, when he'd given her all she'd asked for and more, she'd thrown him out.

Morgan le Fey had a special portrait of her own in his gallery, a work of art he hadn't given even to da Vinci-to him, he'd bestowed the Mona Lisa, and wasn't that enough for mortals?-but it was a portrait at which he never looked, a portrait he kept behind a black veil.

He bounced around a bit after that. He helped Genghis Khan take over a continent, but his power was lost in the ensuing wars caused by his children. While he could've been saving Europe from the Black Death, he was instead stuck under a sand dune in the Gobi desert. He'd been so busy watching the rest of the world-the desert, after all, was pretty boring unless you really _really_ liked sand, which he did not-he couldn't recall how he'd made his way to Signore da Vinci. Leonardo had been smart without his help, and their work together was almost more of a partnership than anything he'd experienced before. Sure, he wondered why good ol' Leo never asked him to bring peace to the world, or enlightenment to the people. Looking back, however, he guessed it was because da Vinci knew it wouldn't do any good. You could lead a horse to water, but….

So he'd given da Vinci inspiration, shown him things he couldn't imagine, and in return he learned about science and intellectualism. He'd never gotten something in return for his services before, and for a little while, he thought that maybe that was love. When decades passed, however, and da Vinci found less and less use for him, he realized he was nothing more than a tool, a piece in Leonardo's intellectual puzzle of the world.

As was probably appropriate, the time he'd spent with da Vinci sat his memory gallery in the form of a Renaissance fresco, expertly crafted across an entire wall. He'd inspect this memory sometimes, usually with the same emotional distance he'd learned to practice during that age. Though the images in the foreground were of people he'd met or served, the artwork itself was a page of a history book filled with illustrations who were just as unable to affect their surroundings as he was.

After da Vinci died, he found himself in the service of a young British playwright for a few years, but the Bard wasn't particularly organized and he was lost again, stolen and sold by one of Shakespeare's scorned sexual conquests. He had always felt himself to be at least a valuable tool, and he marveled at the ease in which he was lost.

Around him, the world continued to change. Old lands were discovered by new people, new wars were fought for old reasons, countries expanded, cultures evolved. He passed hands for a century or two, but no one set him free. It became a game-how close could someone come to releasing him without doing it?

He became a present for a young queen, but he was a decoration, a bauble at best. He remained there, forgotten and unused and alone, and watched. The world kept charging forward. Some of the things he'd shown da Vinci were finally coming to pass. Cars replaced horses and buggies, people could fly now, the earth was groaning under the weight of her inhabitants, wars continued, people died, and somehow, even as things grew closer together, everyone seemed more alone.

The present would be his White Period, he decided. All around him was white, after all, and it seemed pretty dang cold. He wasn't sure how cold, as all he could do from his cage was watch, but there sure was a lot of snow. At least in the desert people came through with caravans!

He was making bets with himself about how much longer he'd be buried in the snow-currently, he'd pay himself ten thousand dollars if it was two monarchies from now, and he'd win a hundred thousand euros if it was five wars away-when an unexpected and highly unnatural wind proved both bets wrong.

* * *

Jack didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been a ring. As soon as he pulled it out, he dropped the bag on the ground, forgotten. It was this ring that mattered-this wide band of tarnished brass set with a single polished gemstone. Jack didn't know much about gems, so he had no idea what kind it was, if it was rare or common, or if it was valuable. He didn't particularly care, either. Now that the ring was in his hand, that irresistible urge to have whatever was inside the bag had faded, melted into contentment just touching it.

It lay on his palm, and at his touch, small tendrils of ice had crawled their way over the metal. Even covered with ice, the ring had an inherent warmth that was unaffected by Jack's cold.

He picked it up between two fingers, lifting it toward the dying light of the sun for a better look. The gem caught the light, but it didn't glitter. Milky white, the gem was a perfect oval. As he moved it, flashes of colors reflected back to him and he marveled at the diversity of them. Blue, green, red, yellow, purple-it was as if every color that had ever existed might be somewhere inside that one stone.

As he stared at it, the hair on the back of his neck rose. He was looking at the ring, but someone was looking at him. He spun, clutching the ring in one hand, raising his staff with the other as he scanned around him. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. There were no birds in the sky, no animals scurrying around. The remains of the ice palace stood in reverent silence.

The feeling faded ever so slightly, and Jack shook his shoulders out. For a moment, it'd almost felt like when Pitch had watched him from the shadows those handful of years ago, but that wasn't it. Not exactly.

What did it matter anyway? It'd just been his imagination. Right?

He opened his fingers to look down at the ring again, brow furrowing. The thing was pretty old, that was for sure. Though the band was maybe three quarters of an inch wide and an eighth of an inch thick, it was dinged up and scratched on all sides. The edges, especially, were dark with dirt and oxidization, and Jack frowned as he held it in front of his eyes for a better look. He rested his staff on his shoulder as rubbed at the ring with his sweatshirt sleeve.

Nothing happened. The ring looked no cleaner. He shrugged, then glanced around again. He couldn't shake that feeling of eyes on him, though he couldn't seem to detect anything else around him.

His eyes went back to the ring. Now that he'd found it, what did he do with it? He had no use for jewelry, but he couldn't just throw it away. He bit his bottom lip. He'd bring it somewhere. Leave it in a place someone who'd probably like it would find it, and that would be that. Simple as snow.

'Til then, he'd carry it with him. It probably wouldn't fit his finger anyway, but if he was going to take it someplace else, it couldn't hurt to try it on. It'd sure be a lot easier to carry if he could just slip it on his finger and have it stay in place and-

The ring slid neatly onto the middle finger of his left hand and stayed there, a perfect fit.

"Huh," Jack mused, again staring at the milky stone infused with veins of color. The colors, however, seemed duller now that the ring was on Jack's finger. It looked more white than anything else now. Maybe he'd just gotten ice on it. He rubbed at it again, and the stone exploded into a cloud of smoke.

"Whoa!" Jack yelped, jumping backward, which didn't do him much good as the ring came with him. He tried to pry it off as he took a few more leaps back, but he couldn't get a good grip on it, and the smoke was getting denser, and his staff was wedged under one arm, and he was still struggling with it, his frustration growing, when he realized the smoke had condensed and now someone really was looking at him.

His eyes rose from the ring to the person who now stood on the floor of the ice palace only six feet in front of him. A boy, or maybe a young man, with skin too tan for a snowy mountaintop and dark brown eyes stared back, an indifferent half-grin on his face. His hair, black and straight, was tied in a high ponytail held back with a golden ring at his scalp. Half a dozen golden rings hung in his ears, which were pointed on top, and Jack suddenly didn't think wearing a single one on his hand was all that much jewelry.

"What wouldst thou with me? I am the-" The boy sighed, rolling his eyes. "Right...twenty-first century. I mean, yo homie, what up? I'm your go 2-" he held up two fingers, meeting Jack's eyes, "as in the numeral, not the written word-be ef ef for anything you could desire. Erh, I mean…." He frowned, his black, arching eyebrows pulling together and creating a furrow between them.

"Whoa, hold on," Jack said, holding up one hand. He focused on the boy's eyes as well, watching as his gaze followed when Jack moved first to the right, then to the left. This boy couldn't be much younger than Jamie, and if what North said was true…. "You can see me?"

The boy glanced around now, as if Jack was maybe talking to someone else. He then pointed at himself and arched an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yeah! You!" A smile bloomed across Jack's face. "That's...if _you_ can see me, then maybe-"

"Hey, buddy, do I get to finish my spiel?" He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't get to do it that often." He put both fists on his hips, and Jack noticed he wore loose, baggy linen pants that were collected at his ankles and slippers the color of the ocean, which were embroidered with gold and had toes that curled up and over the tops of the shoes. A sash tied at his waist was similarly colored, and gold embroidery continued over the vest he wore. He had no shirt beneath the vest, and his chest was bare and smooth.

The boy noticed Jack's confused expression, glanced at his own attire, then looked back up. "Oh, this?" he said with a wry smile. "I figured it'd make the most impact. Isn't this what you expect a genie to wear in this day and age? Oh right! My spiel!" He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest in front of him. "I am the genie of the ring, and as the bearer of my vessel, I am at your service." He grinned. "Hope you don't mind I cut down on the terminology of the day. Still kind of not used to it."

"A genie?"

"You got it, buddy."

"No way! I didn't know you guys were real! I mean, I should've guessed, that would've made sense what with the rest of us, but no one's ever met one. Not even the Man in the Moon has talked about genies."

The boy continued to smile. "I get that a lot." He scanned his new master. He looked human enough, but something wasn't quite right. Maybe his skin was too pale, his face too young for the age of his eyes. He was something else. Something powerful. "What I wanna know, though, is what are _you_? You're obviously not normal. Human beings have come a long ways in the last could millennia, but they can't fly. So?"

"Me? I'm Jack Frost." He grinned broadly.

The genie's expression remained politely blank. "Jack Frost?"

"Yeah. I'm a Guardian."

"A Guardian? Of...what?" The genie raised an eyebrow. This kid looked too scrawny to protect much of anything.

"Of children," Jack said, his smile fading a little. "You know, like Santa Claus. Or the Tooth Fairy." He had to have gained some fame since the kids started believing in him!

The genie stared at him a moment, began to laugh, then stopped. "You're serious."

This time, Jack was the one to frown. "Well, yeah."

"Santa Claus is real?" the genie asked, and a laugh did slip out. "And the Tooth Fairy? Next you'll be telling me the Easter Bunny exists, too!"

Jack raised an eyebrow and nodded, leaning on his staff. "He's Australian."

The genie's neutral smile spread wider, and the skin around his eyes wrinkled with it. "Who knew! Here we all were, this whole time, wandering around the same piece of rock, thinking everything else was a bedtime story!" The boy began to laugh harder, his hands going to his sides, and he fell back onto the ice floor, rolling from side to side as his laughter grew.

Jack watched him for a few seconds, and then his smile broadened and he began to laugh as well.

"I had no idea," the genie managed after a few minutes. He sat up, wiping his eyes of the tears he'd shed from laughing so hard. "All the time I've watched this world, and I never saw any of you!"

Jack leaned against a wall, staff resting on his shoulder, and his other hand in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "Watched?"

The boy nodded, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged facing Jack and waving a flippant hand. "From the ring. Gotta keep on current events somehow, right?" He lifted one shoulder. "I wouldn't be much good if someone wished for a Lamborghini Huracan and all I could say was 'What?'"

Jack raised an eyebrow in question.

"See? Exactly. That's why I'm a genie, and you're...a guardian of children." The genie cocked his head to the side. "Which is...what, exactly?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "I...well, we-the Guardians, I mean-bring good things to children. Like happiness and fun. We protect them when they're scared and remind them of the joy in the world when they need a little nudge." He smirked, his white teeth flashing for a moment. "Personally, I like to keep everyone on their toes, too. What's fun without a little mischief?"

The genie smiled as well. "I like mischief." His dark eyes bore into Jack's, his gaze probing. Part of his talents as a wish-granter involved seeing his master's greatest desires. Not in a clear image, a person's deepest wants were never that simple, but usually as a feeling or a vague idea. It was his duty to fulfil requests, not interpret how someone wanted to realize their dreams.

Jack, however, gave an even more vague impression than usual. There was happiness and contentment in him, but there was something sad, too. A dark spot on his sunny disposition. The genie couldn't tell what, exactly, not yet. The dark spots, though, were where the best wishes came from.

"If you didn't believe in me," Jack said, and the genie blinked, "then how could you see me?" The boy's expression was casual enough, but there was that sadness again, deep in his pale blue eyes.

The sadness had to do with being seen? "I take it that's unusual," the genie observed, pushing himself up to his feet.

Jack shrugged. "If I'm not believed in, I'm invisible." Jamie popped into his head, and he closed his eyes to chase the image away. The problem with memories was they didn't care if you could see or not.

 _Lonely._ The genie felt more than heard it. "I would assume it's because I'm not human. Like you, I've got my own set of rules to follow."

"Oh yeah!" Jack yelped, clutching on to the new topic. "Three wishes!"

The genie scoffed. "What a modern concept. Do you only want three wishes?"

"I can't say I've thought about it," he admitted.

"Good thing you can take your time," the genie said, staring pointedly through Jack. "You're...older than you seem."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "So are you."

The genie felt something stir inside him, something he might've called hope a few centuries before. Jack Frost was different than his previous masters. Even Merlin had to die someday, but this being? This spirit who had the ring now? Maybe Jack Frost was as alone as he was. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Tell ya what. Let's start with something simple."

"I don't really need anything," Jack said, again dropping his eyes.

"Who said anything about what you _need_?" the genie laughed.

Jack frowned, bringing his gaze back up. He jumped in surprise. The genie stood directly in front of him instead of a half dozen feet away. He hadn't seen him move.

The boy grinned at him, but his dark eyes were emotionless. "So, Jack Frost, Guardian of Children, Defender of Fun...what do you wish for?"


End file.
